


Authiel Awakes in Haven

by MinaValkyrie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:02:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaValkyrie/pseuds/MinaValkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Breach is sealed for now and Authiel finds herself back in Haven, no longer a prisoner but a scion of a religion that isn't hers. She joins the Inquisition, tries to get a grasp on what has transpired, gets to learn more about Varric, attempts to deal with issues from her past, and Cullen tucks her in to bed after the past drives her into the woods alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Authiel Awakes in Haven

Her whole body hurt, and nothing was quick to obey her. She stretched her fingers at her sides and grasped at…sheets? She opened her eyes to look around her, she was in a bed- in a house? There were scant furnishings. This was the second time recently she’d woken up like this, not knowing what happened or where she was.

“At least it’s not a jail cell this time.” She muttered under her breath, that’s at least how it usually went. Knocked out then winding up in a jail cell or a cell of some sort at least. A house and a bed were a pleasant change from the usual. She made a move to sit up, and all her muscles screamed in agony when she did so eliciting a pained grunt from her lips.

At that moment, an elf walked in carrying a box and Authiel’s attention snapped to the figure now in the house with her. The elf was startled and dropped her box.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” The elf took a few steps back, a look of awe and fear on her face.

“Don’t worry about it, I only…” Authiel tried to get out but stopped when the other elf dropped to her knees and bent over to the floor as though… _worshipping her?_

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing, I am but a humble servant.” The elf replied modestly. Authiel swung her legs around to the side of the bed so she was sitting, another few groans escaping her lips. This was so terribly odd. “You are back in Haven, my Lady, they say you saved us! The Breach stopped growing just like the mark on your hand.” The elf continued, and Authiel looked at her hand quietly, seeing that it still held the glow but it had obviously not killed her.

She opened her mouth to speak but the other elf continued on, “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.” The other elf finally raised her head so Authiel could see her. No vallaslin, she must have been a City dweller at some point. She was still trying to piece all this together in her head.

“Then they’re…happy with me?” Authiel asked, it sounded silly hanging in the air like that but it sounded silly altogether, she was a prisoner last time she was aware.

“I-I suppose…The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say.” The elf climbed to her feet, looking more nervous than ever. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At Once.’”

“And where is she?” Authiel queried, standing finally and keeping her composure this time.

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At Once,’ she said.” The elf hurriedly answered before bolting from the room leaving Authiel standing there in a bit of disbelief. How odd would her day become? She stood there a moment, collecting her thoughts. “ _The elf said I was out for three days…and before I was…fighting that demon.”_ The memories started to roll back to her now, she was thankful that these were still intact since the last time she had gotten knocked out the memories hadn’t returned. She was with Cassandra, Varric, Solas, Leliana, and a number of soldiers at the remains of the conclave fighting that beast. It had been felled, then she expended all her energy into closing the rift that was there, she was sure she was going to die doing so. She was happy she didn’t, maybe the gods had answered her last prayers and sought to keep her in this world.

Authiel approached the door, thinking she should meet up with Cassandra and continue on to the trial that awaited her. Nothing prepared her for the scene that met her eyes when she opened the door. There were soldiers and at least several dozen townspeople outside and standing and- _saluting!?_ This day was going to be strange indeed. She walked outside cautiously, the soldiers had made a line for her to pass through to go up the stairs towards the Chantry. Each one stood at attention, and there were whispers in the crowd, something about the Herald of Andraste.

_“From hated prisoner to scion…I must be dreaming…”_ She attempted to reason with herself as she walked up the stairs to find more soldiers and townsfolk doing the same thing there. She can’t imagine how she must’ve looked – disheveled from just waking and wide eyed at the reception she was being given. “ _It has to be a dream…”_ She approached the Chantry and there were several clergy people outside chatting amongst themselves, but they all turned to look at her in awe. She held her head up and opened the doors to the Chantry finding her way to the door at the back, reasoning that it looked more important than the other doors and as she got closer there was indeed Cassandra’s raised voice raised coming from inside. She took a deep breath, this couldn’t get any stranger she thought, and opened the door walking through it.

“Chain her!” Chancellor Roderick asserted, raising a hand to point at her. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Authiel let out a relieved sigh, at least this was verging on the edge of normal. A smile might have even tugged on the edges of her lips as she regarded the other figures in the room.

“Disregard that, and leave us.” Cassandra barked at the two guards that were positioned by the door, they each saluted and left. Authiel watched Cassandra and Leliana who stood directly in front of her on the other side of a massive table. They had books and other items laying on it, there were also shelves of books behind where the Chancellor stood just to the left of the table.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” The Chancellor retorted, his voice low and threatening. Cassandra approached him, unaffected by his tone.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” Her tone sounded more threatening than his, and Authiel decided to speak up.

“I did everything I could to close The Breach. It almost killed me.” Authiel offered, she spoke her words with confidence and a hint of caution – not wanting to add flames to the situation.

“Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.” The Chancellor sneered, staring her down.

“Have a care Chancellor, The Breach is not the only threat we face.” Cassandra said low, almost a growl.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect.” It was Leliana’s turn to interject into the conversation with her smooth voice. She turned to Cassandra for a moment, “Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” Her gaze fell back upon the Chancellor as she too lowered her voice.

“ _I_ am a suspect?” He asked incredulously, motioning with his hands his outrage.

“You, and many others” Leliana replied. Authiel marveled at how she could level such a threat in such a honey coated voice.

“But _not_ the prisoner.” The Chancellor said snidely.

“I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra said defiantly.

“So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand – all a coincidence!?” The Chancellor retorted sarcastically, and it was not lost on Cassandra although she ignored it.

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” Cassandra’s tone lightened and her gaze now fell on Authiel. _“The Maker sent me? What…who…how…Mythal give me strength, this makes no sense!”_ Authiel thought to herself, unsure of what to say next. She kept her face neutral though she wrestled with herself internally, but her eyes did dart from Cassandra’s to Leliana’s and back – both women were expecting an answer.

“You really think your Maker would send someone like me?” Authiel finally said, hoping that the confusion in her voice wasn’t as prominent as it was in her own thoughts.

“The Maker does as He wills. It is not for me to say.” Cassandra replied, her tone softer with Authiel.

“Even if that means a Dalish elf is his chosen?” Authiel replied quickly, unsure that any of this was really happening. A scion for a religion she didn’t even believe in…this still must be a dream.

“Humans are not the only people with an interest in the fate of the world.” Cassandra said before turning from her to retrieve an item from a nearby bookshelf.

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” Leliana added in her honey sweet voice, her eyes fixed on Authiel’s.

“This is _not_ for you to decide.” The Chancellor sneered angrily at the two women in front of him. It was then that Cassandra returned with a book and threw it forcefully on the table. Authiel saw it was emblazoned with a sun, or rather an eye in the center of a sun. Cassandra pointed to it, eyeing the Chancellor.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” Cassandra paused only a moment before continuing in her authoritative tone. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She approached the Chancellor now, keeping her tone and he backed from her slowly. “We will close The Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.” She raised her hand to point at the Chancellor with her last words and waited for his response defiantly. He gazed around the room a moment before backing away and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

“This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.” Leliana explained the weight of what was happening, fully eyeing Authiel now.

“But we have no choice: we must act now. With you at our side.” Cassandra added, also turning her gaze to Authiel. Authiel bit her lip, it was a nervous habit she’d had since she was a child. Her head was spinning trying to reconcile what had just happened, what this all meant, and the fact that not only did she really not have a choice since she was marked, but that they still sought to seek her approval anyway instead of ordering it. She took that as a sign of respect that she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t earned at the rift. She drew a breath and spoke carefully.

“If you’re truly trying to restore order…”

“That is the plan.” Leliana, cut her off quickly.

“Help us fix this before it’s too late.” Cassandra said, moving to stand squarely in front of Authiel who had not moved this entire time. Cassandra extended her hand to Authiel and waited for her to move. Authiel finally didn’t hesitate, she reached out and grasped Cassandra’s forearm shaking it gently but gripping with a measured strength. Authiel needed this woman to trust her, to shed the doubts from her mind about her, especially if they were to continue to enter battle at each other’s sides.

Authiel turned to Leliana then, nodding, and Leliana smiled in return.

“Let’s get to work.” Leliana replied in her honey voice and moved quickly from the room.

It certainly was quite a bit of work setting up a rogue, heretic organization. Soldiers were recruited, pilgrims were coming from miles to see the alleged Herald of Andraste. Word was sent to both the Templars and the rebel mage groups, Authiel learned later, they would have to choose which group would support them in their endeavor to close The Breach. An ambassador who also served as a diplomat was recruited of Antivan descent, a Lady Josephine Montilyet, whose role Authiel understood to be relations with all those outside of Haven. The Commander, Cullen apparently, she had met on the battlefield some days before was reintroduced as the leader of the Inquisition’s forces. Sister Leliana’s position was defined, as Cassandra put it, as ‘Spymaster.’ Authiel had found herself somehow wrapped up with all of them, a so called ‘chosen one’ in a war that was not her own, but front and center nonetheless. Her first mission was speaking to a clergywoman in the Hinterlands to try and regain Chantry support.

***

Seeker Cassandra seemed to be directing things, so far as Authiel could tell at this point. The discussion in the Inquisition’s ‘war room’ in the back of the Chantry had gotten heated that morning. A discussion based on whether to side with the rebel mages or the Templars had Leliana and Cullen at odds. Authiel understood the dissent he felt given her own misgivings of mages, but had found his choice of words at the meeting odd. He said he _was_ a Templar, not _is_ a Templar. From what she had gathered previously, one was always a Templar due to some sort of physical constraint placed upon them. She had never asked explicitly what it was or understood it, but it certainly had her curiosity piqued.

She found herself now in what she guessed were her quarters, the small house she had woken up in. She was just sitting, meticulously checking over her rucksack’s contents she had gathered for the journey to the Hinterlands from the merchant before she decided to wander around and speak to her new comrades. She found this action helped to calm her and think over the situation at hand. She had also found she desperately needed to be alone, not knowing how to deal with the looks, smiles, praise, questions, and general overwhelming attention from so many people - let alone humans. It was unnerving the way they looked to her for answers, said she was the chosen of their prophet, and called her as such.

“The Herald of Andraste,” she rolled it off her tongue to see if it would feel any better that way, it didn’t. She wondered what her own Creators thought of all this, if they were appalled or laughing that one of theirs was considered sent by the divinity of another religion. She wagered that they laughed, finding humor in how preposterous it was. At least that brought a smile to her face, and she decided to set out to speak to her companions in Haven and to see if she could get some proper armaments. Although the items she had picked up served her well enough in the last fight, she’d prefer something with more weight and some proper armor. With a sigh, she left the small house and set out into Haven, doing her best to ignore the eyes that fell upon her as she did so.

Her heart warmed when she saw the only one that had shown her kindness from their first meeting, Varric. He was standing next to a campfire not far from the Chantry and greeted her with a warm smile that she couldn’t help but return.

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright?” It was a quip laced with concern, something she was sure only Varric was capable of. “I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

“I’m just glad I’m still standing after all that.” Authiel returned his light humor with a wide smile.

“I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra.” He said, his smile turning into more of a smirk. “You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.” He continued, his smile fading slightly as his tone changed to serious. “For days now, we’ve been staring at The Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.” Authiel retorted, rather surprised anyone would pledge themselves to a cause when the path that laid ahead seemed so dire.

“I’d like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy but this…” He smiled with the first statement but his face changed quickly again to something of concern, “Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them, and now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.” His eyebrows knitted in concern as well, she could tell this whole situation was worse than perhaps she had appraised it as, not that she’d had much time to think of it.

“I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening.” The words fell from her mouth before she realized it. She had not meant to be quite so casual, but Varric seemed to be the easiest to talk to.

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming. You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.” His voice had dropped and he turned away looking instead at the fire.

This left Authiel standing there, awkwardly looking Varric over while she formulated some sort of response. He was indeed a dwarf, his short, stout stature gave that away. He was clean shaven and wore his blonde hair pulled back, his clothes were a bit lavishly colored she thought, the bright red tunic not being a choice she would make for battle. She bit her lip, a nervous habit, as she tried to find something meaningful to say.

“I - I didn’t mean to...make light of the situation.” He turned to look at her, but she looked away and continued. “It’s just this whole ordeal, waking up as a prisoner, the hole, being accused of a massacre, becoming the chosen of another religion, the...everything. It seems like a cruel nightmare that I would wake up from. Obviously that hasn’t happened.” Her eyes returned to his amber eyes, she was sure her face conveyed more than she wished it would. She’d been having a hard time keeping all of her emotions to herself considering the events of the last few days.

A slow smile crept across his face as he reached out to put a hand on her arm, a gesture of reassurance. “I hope you wake up too Sapphire, if you do, come find me in Kirkwall so I can write a novel based on this crazy dream of yours.”

“Sapphire?” She queried, her expression softening.

“Your new nickname!” He exclaimed, letting go of her arm. “Everyone gets one, take Commander Curly for example.” Authiel laughed out loud at that.

“Commander Curly? How in Thedas did you come up with that?” She got out between laughs, imagining the Commander being anything but overly serious seemed too funny.

“Well, Curly and I have a history from when he was in Kirkwall. He was the Knight-Captain there while I was playing tag-a-long with the Champion - Hawke.” Varric had crossed his arms and began in a voice she could only guess was reserved for storytelling. He paused and cocked an eyebrow at her, “I assume you’ve read my _Tale of the Champion_? So I needn’t go into too much detail.”

“No actually,” she feigned a smile hoping it would cover the unease she felt at the mention of Kirkwall. “My clan, Lavellan, has had very little contact with outsiders. At that time my clan was...close enough to see the explosion in the sky and heard rumors later but no...firsthand accounts.” She picked her words carefully, most of it was true.

“Ah, well then!” He turned quickly and went to rummage in a nearby rucksack, “We will have to remedy that, I am an acclaimed author after all, and the Herald should be familiar with the start of mage rebellion as well as her companions.” He produced a copy of the book from the sack and returned to Authiel pressing it into her hands.

“Th-thank you Varric. I had no idea you were an author.” She smiled politely, but the thought of reading the book made her stomach twist into knots.

His smile was wide as he waved his hand dismissively, “Think nothing of it Sapphire, can’t help that your clan kept you from reading some of the best literature in Thedas.” He chuckled, “You’d best get to reading before we run into some of those mages in the Hinterlands.”

“Perhaps so…” She turned then and walked from him, she made her way through Haven vaguely aware that she was cradling the book to her chest. She slowed her pace so it didn’t seem like a run, but she truly hadn’t thought about things. Not like she should have at least. She was staring downwards and heading towards the blacksmith to inquire about armor. Something to take her mind off of the images of Kirkwall that now enveloped her. The mages that had held her captive, the Templars that aided them in their twisted rituals…She hadn’t realized anyone was calling to her, and gasped as someone grabbed her arm. She pulled out of their grasp, and turned to meet the culprit in a quick spin. Her eyes were met with that of the Commander’s fawn-colored ones.

“I - I didn’t mean to startle you Herald.” He began, stammering and moved his hand to rub the back of his neck as he looked down at her. She looked up at him, wide-eyed clutching a book, the expression she wore was one of fear. He had not meant to scare her for sure, did she distrust Templars or humans so much? He continued softening his tone, “I was just wondering when you had planned to make preparations to head to the Hinterlands?” She stared at him, her face softening, maybe he had just scared her when he grabbed her. He hoped that was the case, since he had not gotten this close to the Herald of Andraste before. He’d been introduced across battlefields and tables but had never been close enough to touch her.

_“Maker, she’s beautiful!”_ he thought as he watched her try to respond. Her svelte build was hardly hidden under the clothes she wore. Her eyes were bright blue and reflected the color of the sky, enhanced further by the matching vallaslin that adorned her cheeks. Her hair was a bright red, cut to her shoulders, and framed her face perfectly. He could only discern one long scar on her face, dissecting her right eyebrow and dipping down to her eye.

“I - I…” She started, but the words weren’t coming out. She damned herself for being so wrapped up in her thoughts as to be caught off guard like this, unable to even formulate a sentence. He stared at her, waiting for a response, his expression one of exhaustion and concern. She looked away, she needed to, afraid that he would see all of the emotions that were churning inside of her as they surely would make their way to her face. “I was just heading to the blacksmith’s to see about proper armor.” She finally choked out, her voice soft and low.

“I see. Did you need something commissioned or would existing items do?” He asked, hoping she’d look back up at him. His eyes dipping to her white-knuckled grip on the book she held.

“I hadn’t actually thought about it.” She looked back up at him finally, pushing the last of the visions of Kirkwall from her mind for now. Her tone came out better, more confident. “The current weapons I have were taken from a fallen soldier, and the clothes I have are what the…slaves… dressed in at the Conclave. I’m hardly fit for battle, and far from comfortable with continuing on like this.”

His hand had dropped back to his side as he looked her over, still wondering why she kept a death grip on a book, especially Varric’s _The Tale of Champion_. “Perhaps you should come with me to see the Quartermaster and you can pick from that and commission the rest from the blacksmith. It would be quicker than having him craft all new equipment.” His tone was that of the Commander’s again, keeping his composure in front of her.

She nodded, and he turned with her following to head to the Quartermaster. They walked through most of Haven in silence, and she kept her head down and her shoulders slouched as they walked. He felt like he was leading a wounded animal to slaughter, and it was uncomfortable.

“So, I see you have some light reading material there…” He said as he side-eyed her for a reaction.

She had forgotten she was carrying the thing, and certainly didn’t realize she was carrying it so _protectively_. Heat creeped into her cheeks as she caught the Commander’s gaze aimed at her so curiously. “Varric gave it to me, thought I should know how this whole thing started.” She said softly, sure she was fully blushing with embarrassment now. She dropped the book to carry it in one hand to the side furthest from him. Could she not feel like an idiot in front of this man? She wasn’t sure it was possible.

“Hope I’m written well at least…” His voice trailed and his eyes were in front of him again. She remembered what Varric had said about the Commander being in Kirkwall now and felt even more foolish as they finally arrived at the Quartermaster’s tent outside the Chantry.

After speaking with the Quartermaster briefly, the Commander returned to his duties and Authiel felt some relief that he left her to choose her own weapons and armor. She was able to pick out what she needed and only had to ask the blacksmith for minor alterations to the armor so that it fit properly. It was some time later when she returned to her quarters with most of her new armor and the book.

She threw the book onto the bed and used some of the boxes in the room for a makeshift armor stand. She had also acquired some polish and set to work on making it look suitable for battle and for meeting a Mother of the Chantry. She used the time to focus on her task and keep the images she had of Kirkwall from her mind, though the book beckoned her from where it laid. Finally, when there was nothing at all left to polish she sat down with the accursed book.

“I should at least attempt to read it because Varric asked me to and looked so proud of it.” She said aloud, thinking that would set her mind at better ease. She lowered herself onto the bed and began to read. A few chapters into the tale of Mina Hawke and her ragtag band had put Authiel at ease, it was not what she had dreaded it would be. There were tales of her friends, her sister Bethany who became a Circle mage, and her blossoming love with the fiendishly lovely pirate queen Isabela. The tale was seemed almost endearing until more was revealed about the mage, Anders. It seemed Hawke had a soft spot for him, not that Authiel could see why – or even why she’d have a soft spot for the Dalish elf, Merrill. Regardless, Authiel pressed on reading since it did seem her duty to understand how everything came to be in this world. There were some mentions of the tattoos held by an elf in their band that caught her eye, Fenris was covered in glowing blue patterns that he said were burned into his skin. She read those parts with great interest, but little was said about how he got the brands and he seemed quite standoffish concerning his past. She read about the fight with the Qunari Arishok, the issues with the viscount, the increasingly disturbing picture portrayed by the treatment of mages and silent feud beginning between Knight Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino. There was unfortunately little about the Inquisition’s own Commander although he was mentioned a few times throughout.

The book didn’t strike any undue chords until the talk of hunting the rebel mage groups that were being hidden by sympathetic Templars in the warehouses in Lowtown. She realized quickly that neither Varric, Hawke, nor any of their group had a real understanding of what some of those groups were doing in those warehouses. There was no mention of finding prisoners taken by them either, perhaps they hadn’t known prisoners were amongst the supplies stored in those wretched places. Her stomach churned with the thought, the smells of those nasty warehouses, and the faces of her captors. She stopped and took a deep breath, turning to the table of contents and eyeing the last chapter, she’d simply skip to that since she didn’t think she’d stomach reading more about the warehouses or slavers.

The last chapter was the most horrifying to read, not because of Hawke’s actions but because of how everything unraveled to hell so quickly. A final battle that pitted the rebel mages against the Templars, a battle that started when a mage blew up the Chantry. Hawke sided with the mages and fought the Templars and then the mages turned into abominations. Authiel felt a chill go down her spine and her back burned with her own memories, now mixing in with the pages of the book. The mages turned on Hawke and they had to kill even Orsino, a seemingly level-headed man who turned into an abomination himself on a whim. Her back burned, and she felt bile rise into her throat due to the flips that her stomach was now doing.

She threw the book down, she would read no more about it. She wrapped her arms around herself, urging the searing pain to die down. She could feel the heat through her hands and knew she had to calm down or she’d burn through the clothes she now wore. She willed herself up and into the night air of Haven – when had it gotten so late? She hardly noticed as she strode to the bottom of camp hurriedly so she could set out on one of the trails that led out of town. She didn’t stop even as the nightly patrols eyed her, she kept walking past the soldiers’ tents and out into the night alone. Her mind was filled with nothing but the pain she now felt burning into her flesh and she sat in the cold snow, far enough from camp to avoid prying eyes but close enough to call for help – not that she would bring herself to do that.

She laid down, and heard the hiss of the snow as it melted around her shoulders, but the feeling felt so good. She laid there and willed the pain to leave her, tears now stinging her cheeks and eyes. She simply laid there and wished she understood mages or the Templars that drove them to twist into monsters, or even the Templars that were monsters themselves beneath their Chantry armor. She knows that there are good Templars since she has met them- and she owed her life to two of them, and she knows there are good mages like the Keeper and the First and Seconds from her clan, but she has also seen those corrupted by power and greed. She understands neither and wishes she didn’t have to be stuck in the middle of a war between the two groups.

She never noticed that she was being watched curiously from a distance. Her odd behavior had drawn the attention of a patrol who had alerted the Commander, he also kept late hours dealing with his own demons. He had followed her keeping a careful distance, and hadn’t made much of a sound having changed into leather breeches and a simple linen shirt for bed. He held his fur mantled coat around him for warmth and hid himself in the trees when the Herald stopped. He watched more curiously as she laid down in the snow, writhing in pain and steam poured from around her. He had thought to go to her to see what was wrong, but had no desire to scare her again today. He watched as she laid still and her breathing slowed, as did the steam. He stayed like this for another few minutes, but his curiosity and worry for her well-being moved him to action.

The crunch of his footsteps as he walked plainly up to Authiel did not stir her. He stopped when he stood above her and realized that she had fallen asleep in the snow. She did not stir at his presence, and even as he cleared his throat hoping the sound would wake her, she did not move.

“Maker’s breath.” He muttered aloud, wondering what to do with her. He certainly couldn’t leave her sleep in the snow, she’d catch her death. He bent down beside her and gently touched her arm, shaking her slightly.

“Herald, Herald…” he used a low tone, hoping not to scare her, “please wake up, you can’t possibly sleep out here.” She moved with his gestures but nothing else, so he knelt there wondering again what to do. She was small, and he could easily carry her back to the camp, her breathing was steady so he didn’t see a need for a healer – particularly since it seemed she wanted to keep whatever happened private. He wagered that he could understand that better than anyone else in Haven – keeping an episode to yourself was hard to do when you’re surrounded by people. He was certainly not sure how he’d carry her into Haven without being noticed, but he was the one that set the patrols and he didn’t have the burden of his armor so he could move quietly. He tried to shake her again and got the same response.

“Andraste’s tits.” He cursed aloud as he resolved to carry her around the tree line up the small but steep pass to the west of Haven and he wagered he could do it undetected. He wasn’t sure he could explain himself if she woke up, but there seemed to be little choice. He knelt in the snow directly next to her, noting that her face was still knitted like she was uncomfortable. He carefully slid one arm behind her knees, and caught the snow as he moved the other behind her back. She stirred when he put pressure on her back and her face contorted again, looking pained but she didn’t wake. He stayed there, awkwardly like that until she settled again, and left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He moved to pick her up in a swift motion, but found she weighed far more than he had assumed and caught himself up on one knee trying to regain his balance. She moved again, nuzzling her face into the fur of his coat but she didn’t wake. He didn’t have to wonder how such a small frame could hold so much weight, her entire back was soaked from laying in the snow and he could feel each of the muscles there tensed against his arm. He had met her on a battlefield where she had wielded a longsword and shield not unlike his own with ease, and he knew the training required to move so fluidly when surrounded by enemies. He found himself wondering how muscular the rest of her must be to afford such movements, but caught himself when he felt his cheeks heat as he cradled her against him kneeling in the snow.

He tried again, finding he had to heft her up and got his balance right this time, adjusting for how much she truly weighed. He shook his head, now standing with the Herald in his arms, at the situation and the flush in his cheeks spread to his whole face. She was beautiful, even in the moonlight, even with her eyebrows knitted together grimacing against something Cullen could only guess about. He moved slowly, the snow crunching under his boots around the west side of Haven, up the trail to the shallow rock face that held the smaller path to the middle of Haven. He waited for the patrol to pass this point, he had set them up after all, before moving quickly up the slope and to the back of her small house. He peeked around the corner and when he saw no movement, made a move for her door. He leveraged his knee to hold her legs as he twisted the knob and all but stumbled into her house. He used his foot to catch the edge of the door and close it behind him, which he had done too quickly in his haste and it all but slammed. She stirred again, but only to nuzzle even closer to his neck, resting her head on the fur mantle of his coat.

He found he was holding his breath again and that he certainly couldn’t have explained his holding her or his presence in her quarters should she awaken. He strode to the bed, kicking something across the floor with a light thud and he stopped again, afraid she’d wake up. When she didn’t, he set her down on the bed gently and stood to look at her a moment before pulling the covers over her still clothed body. He couldn’t help but stare as a smile was now what she wore on her face, sleeping soundly and comfortably. He wondered how he’d be able to talk to her again, knowing how endearing her smile could be, and how good she felt nestled against his chest. He sighed and looked to the floor to discern the object he had kicked and picked up the book that had skittered across the floor. _The Tale of the Champion,_ she had been holding it earlier lost in fearsome thoughts. He wondered if it had triggered something, but wiped the thought from his mind since he was sure she’d never been to Kirkwall with how her clan tended to stay away from human affairs. He sat the book, face down, on the table beside her bed and quietly left. As he made his way back to his own tent, he couldn’t help but smile as the smell of her lingered on his coat.

 


End file.
